


Bertie's Treat

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-24
Updated: 2007-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1640633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aunt Agatha has a surprise for Bertie. But will he enjoy it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bertie's Treat

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! Thanks to htbthomas for the beta. Enjoy your "stocking stuffer"!
> 
> Written for vertigomac

 

 

It would have been a lazy day for enjoying the bed sheets and drinking brandy, had Aunt Agatha not insisted on me staying at her summer cottage. 

Damn Aunt Agatha and her plans. Stuffy, that... and Jeeves had all but agreed to side with me, as I insisted that I absolutely _could_ not. However, Aunt Agatha, the smarmy witch, hexed Jeeves somehow and made arrangements without my consent. 

It will help for you to know that Tuppy Glossop and my cousins had procured an old wheezer of a pump organ - the kind you pedal really quickly with your feet while you play. They had heard the thing played in a country church, and determined to borrow it for a few days. I can only imagine what the Rector was thinking when he found the organ had disappeared! 

In any case, they had me to sit at the organ, pump the pedals, and play any number of songs, while they sang full-voiced. Seven hours of pumping the organ seemed as nothing to me, until I woke up this morning with terrible cramps and soreness in my legs. 

"Why must we go, Jeeves?" I asked, after managing to get my clothes on, despite the stiff soreness. "My legs feel as if they're made of rotting wood, and all the bugs and termites are having a party inside them."

"If you'll allow me to assist you, Sir, I believe I can take some of the soreness away before we depart."

He had me sit on my bed. He stooped, and began rubbing his hands over my pants legs.

"Now really, Jeeves. This is just... delightful." Despite what seemed to me to be a most unwelcome advance, my legs felt thousands of time better as his hands worked magically over my legs - warming and soothing them in a most unique way.

"Can you stand, Sir?" he asked when he'd finished.

I rose, and felt as if I could run a marathon - and I told him so.

He made no response, except to hand me my coat and hat. "Then, it would be best if we were away, Sir."

***

We arrived at the cottage early in the afternoon, and soon as I stood out of the car, I felt a terrible pain in my legs. They must have gone numb during the ride.

"Cramps, sir?" Jeeves asked in his quiet manner.

"No, Jeeves. No!" I said, nearly at a scream. "A thousand tiny swords thrust in my legs and feet."

"Ah, a touch of the pins and needles, Sir. Allow me." 

Jeeves had me rest against the car a moment and half carried me to the door of the cottage, as I tried to walk.

Aunt Agatha met us at the door. She took one look at me and shuddered. 

"Really, Bertie! Couldn't you have picked a better time to pretend injury?" 

I was about to raise my voice in the shrillest and boldest words I could manage to let Aunt Agatha know what a trollopy witch from the depths of Hell she was, when one look from Jeeves told me to hold my tongue. Having come to trust him, I put my words on hold for a better opportunity. 

Aunt Agatha showed us into the sitting room, then promptly left to attend to her staff. 

I hobbled to the saw-dust-filled couch of hers and managed to rest my legs enough to make the pins and needles go away. Jeeves, not far off, made sure to bring me tea and some biscuits. He poured my cup, and offered me the choicest of biscuits. My mouth was full of biscuit when Aunt Agatha re-entered the room. I quickly swallowed.

"I see you've recovered, Bertie," Aunt Agatha said, nonplussed. "All the better for you, as I have a surprise for you. I know your penchant for playing that...awful rag music. So...crude. What you require is more refinement. Come."

"But, Aunt Agatha..." I protested, nodding that my tea had not yet been finished.

"Stop making a scene, Bertie. The tea will wait."

I reluctantly rose, unsteady on my feet. After Jeeves' magical massage, my legs were all marmalade jelly. In addition, I nearly stumbled on them. Aunt Agatha seemed not to notice. 

I followed her to a small room off the main, where stood a harp. 

"A harp? Who plays the harp?"

"You, Bertie. You will play the harp for me."

I looked at Jeeves. However, he did not betray any emotion. 

"Go sit at it," Aunt Agatha insisted. The chair, a round thing, was to the right of the harp. I had no idea how to play the thing, so I did what I thought was natural. Sit off the side and pluck the strings with my fingers. 

Aunt Agatha huffed audibly. "Now, Bertie. One sits behind the harp and leans it back onto one's shoulders. One then uses one's fingers to pluck the strings."

I looked askance at Aunt Agatha, and made to adjust myself in just the position she wanted, all the while doing it incorrectly, and getting pointers from a woman I am sure never laid a finger on any instrument herself in her life. Not a decent instrument, at least.

Once in position -- one that pleased Aunt Agatha, and not myself -- I began to pluck the strings. I noted with a little experimentation that the strings had the same kind of chromatic feel of a piano, and I was soon able to pick out a small tune.

There was a new tune I had learned on the piano some nights before, and I began to pick out the tune. Jeeves gave me a look -- that look with a smirk, encouraging me to continue. I sought out the right fingerings, stumbling here and there, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. Aunt Agatha seemed in heaven, as she watched me trip over myself on this harp of hers. 

Then, without any warning on my part, I began playing the tune I'd been practicing -- and I do say that I did a fair job of playing "Minnie the Moocher" on the harp. Aunt Agatha -- realizing the soothing tones she was hearing were none other than "awful rag music" --fainted straight away, leaving Jeeves and me to nod and wink. 

 


End file.
